All righty, well, my music theory class was cancelled today so I got quite a bit of writing done...in fact I finished it. Not this chapter, but the next one will be the last. Anyway, I decided to actually post one of the many songs that inspired me, it just sort of fit, especially for this chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Part of this chapter was also inspired by my wonderful Master, AthenaLeighJinn.

Chapter 6 – Will of a Legend

Oh great God, be small enough to hear me now
There were times when I was crying from the dark of Daniel's den
And I had asked you once or twice if you would part the seas again
But tonight I do not need a fiery pillar in the sky
Just want to know you're goina hold me if I start to cry
Oh great God, be small enough to hear me now
- Be Small Enough

The wind howled in the hallway outside Arthur's room. It had been raining for two days, never letting up. Day and night seemed just as dark outside as it did in the room only lit by a fire and a few candles.

Arthur was cold under the blankets of his bed. His face was wet, was it still raining? He could hear the rain outside, pounding down harder. Slowly he opened his eyes and the world came into focus. The fire still crackled in the fireplace in the corner.

It was sometime during the night, the clouds masked the stars in the view of the single window. In the chair next to the bed, Lancelot was asleep. Arthur smiled weakly; he had spent many nights in the same position. It felt strange to have their roles reversed.

There was a cup of water on the table. Arthur was thirsty, and hungry; he didn't remember the last time he had eaten. But then he could barely remember the past few days. Trying to blink the blurriness out of his sight, he slowly attempted to sit up. Immediate pain shot through his body like white fire. Biting his lip, Arthur reached towards the cup, his hand shaking.

Another hand reached out, guiding his. Arthur looked up and Lancelot smiled down at him. "And after all of those times that you said I should wake you when I wanted something," he teased slightly, helping Arthur lay back down more comfortably.

"You looked tired," Arthur replied, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

"It doesn't matter now. Don't drink too fast, if you start coughing and hurt yourself again, it's me that the healer yells at," Lancelot smirked slightly and pressed the cup to Arthur's lips. The water was cold, but it soothed his sore throat.

Arthur closed his eyes again and shivered. "How long has it been raining?" he asked softly.

"A few days," replied his friend tucking the blankets around him. There was a long, awkward pause. Lancelot reached forward and brushed a lock of dark hair out of Arthur's face, "Sleep, you need it."

Leaning back in his chair, Lancelot listened to the soft rhythmic sound of the man's breathing. He had not left Arthur's side since they returned to the fort. During the long silences, he had many chances to think and let his mind wander. Sometimes it hurt him as much as it helped, other times, when he thought of happier times...but then he would return to the present.

Arthur's hand twitched in his sleep, he whispered a silent prayer in Latin, the language that was still unfamiliar to Lancelot. It often seemed as though Lancelot was jealous of Arthur and his God. Perhaps he was. Perhaps because there were things that Arthur would bring before his God that he would not say to his best friend. Or was it because of this. Arthur had told Lancelot once that God was kind and loving, a creator, not a destroyer. Then why did this God allow his follower to suffer?

Lancelot looked up at the ceiling. "If You can hear me, God of Artorius...be with him," the young knight whispered, "If You are a loving God, heal him. If You are a creator, save him. He is your servant isn't he? That's what he told me, many times. He does not deserve to suffer like this...and if You are punishing him for befriending a pagan, then punish me instead, for I am at fault." Letting out a deep breath, Lancelot closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the chair. His burdened heart felt lighter.

Outside was quiet the day after the next, the rain had stopped. It was instead replaced by fragile white flakes of snow that had begun to gather on the ground and walls of the fort. The first snow of the season.

Lancelot awoke in his chair to silence. The bed was empty. Immediately, he panicked, his mind automatically racing to imagine the worst. But as he jumped up and turned for the door, it opened and in the doorway stood Arthur, supported by a wooden crutch. He smiled warmly, "It snowed last night."

"Arthur..you're..."

"Up?" The Roman's smile widened, "Dagonet made it in his spare time, which everyone has a lot of lately." He motioned to the wooden stick positioned under his arm to take the weight off his leg and lessen the strain on his side. "And the healer didn't yell too much," he smirked, "In fact he said that I can be getting up, for a little bit at a time now." Arthur turned from the door and limped a little into the hallway, "But what he doesn't know won't hurt either of us. Come on, Lancelot, come see the snow."

During the night the fort and the lands surrounding had been transformed from the muddy green that the rain had brought, to a pure white. It hadn't been a heavy snow, only enough to blanket the ground and change the beauty of the landscape they had grown so used to. Lancelot stepped out into the crisp air of the white kingdom, his brown eyes surveying.

In the courtyard, Galahad and Gawain were having a battle with Bors' children, all of them armed with snow. Arthur limped beside Lancelot, his red cloak keeping him warm. He smiled leaning on the y-shaped stick.

"It's as if the earth has been whipped clean," he said softly, his breath coming in clouds from the cold air, "It's pure again, no more death, no more battles...well, except that one."

"It's beautiful, that's what it is," Lancelot smiled.

Just then Galahad looked up, catching sight of the two standing there. His young eyes lit up in a joyful smile, "Arthur!"

Gawain's head snapped up, "Arthur! You've emerged from the depths of the dark hallway."

Arthur smiled widely, it still hurt to laugh but he told none of them. "It took a change in the weather apparently," he replied.

"It's a good thing too, I think Gawain was going to go insane if it rained one more day and we had nothing to do," Galahad threw a handful of snow at his friend.

Gawain returned the favour, "You already are."

"Hey!" Galahad laughed chasing him back across to the battle with the children.

Lancelot shook his head with amusement, "With the children, that's where they belong...Arthur? Are you all right?"

Arthur winced slightly, the cold was getting to him, "Just..sore."

"Come sit down then at least," Lancelot replied, a bit surprised when his captain didn't protest.

They watched Gawain and Galahad playing in the fresh snow with the children for a long time. Lancelot sat with his back to the stone building on the bench and Arthur leaned against him, neither were ashamed nor uncomfortable being close to each other, it felt safe.

"Are you cold?" Lancelot asked after a moment of silence.

"No, you make a very good heat source," said Arthur sleepily, his head resting back against Lancelot's shoulder.

The knight snorted, "If you weren't wounded, I'd hit you."

"What for," Arthur grinned, closing his eyes, "Love is a very warm feeling, especially when it comes from your best friend."

Lancelot's smile slowly faded. A best friend who hurt you...